


Ever Ticking Clock

by Taifics



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel in the Bunker, Castiel's Reaction to Nick's Disappearance, Castiel's Reaction to Nick's Words, Character Study, Depression, Emotional Damage, Empty, Episode: s14e02 Gods and Monsters, Family, Hope, M/M, Other, POV Castiel, Season/Series 14, Season/Series 14 Spoilers, Somewhat Implied Castiel/Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 14:09:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16369091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taifics/pseuds/Taifics
Summary: While Sam, Bobby and Mary are tracking Michael down, Castiel is left behind to babysit Jack and Nick. The task, though seemingly simple, go sideways and, eventually, the angel finds himself locked in the bathroom, thinking about recent events and reflecting upon his life.The story is an attempt to gain an insight into Castiel's mind and to show how damaged he actually is, to emphasise the real fall from an angel to... useless babysitter, unable to beat a bunch of random demons, exhausted and depressed.Is there still some hope hidden deep underneath?





	Ever Ticking Clock

The clock was ticking somewhere in the distance, its steady sound constantly reminding of every minute that passed. The bunker felt oddly empty because of that stubborn, heartless sound. Yet it was not. There was him – very old, very exhausted being, once with genuine purposes, once useful, once... angel.

Castiel sighed loudly hoping to disturb the annoying routine of ticking even if it was just for a while. A short while. No longer than a blink of an eye.

''I don't understand,'' he spoke quietly addressing those words to no one.

Castiel could not comprehend why demons were able to disarm him so effortlessly, neither, why he decided not to fight them, why was he just sitting there, on the chair, like a damsel in distress... That, he knew, was just an expression and had nothing to do with him being a damsel... Although it had a lot to do with him being in distress...

It was embarassing, he knew it was. He had his (slightly depleted and nearly wingless) grace buzzing inside him warmly even though the Heaven was dying. He could... Would... He did not. Why? He could read the unspoken question on Sam's features when the hunter released him. It was all over his miserably worried, painfully determined face he had been sporting every day since Michael had taken over Dean's body.

Taking someone's body... How abhorrent was that and, yet, oh, how necessary, when angel intented to walk the Earth! The sheer idea of manipulating humans into submitting their fragile bodies without any real knowledge about the consequences...

What Nick said about him was much worse than the ticking clock teasing him from afar.

_Castiel, you're just a stone-cold body snatcher. You're no different than Lucifer._

The angel raised his hands to cover the face, to hide himself from the words stabbing him over and over again like angel blades. There was no penance in this world to cleanse the guilt of destroying Jimmy's family. No Purgatory could wipe that away. No Hell. Nothing.

Who could invent such torture, corrupting both human and angel, just to allow the latter one to walk the Earth? What monster?

 _God._ The Great Toymaker.

''Where are you Father?'' Castiel's fists clenched on the edge of the sink in the bathroom he was occupying. He looked up to see his own (Jimmy's!) ever frowning, ever confused features in the mirror.

How foolish he was to ask that question after all these years? Father was gone. Yet again. And Castiel was just a not important, worn-out, pathetic pawn unable to properly supervise some powerless nephilim and an abandoned vessel!

Jack ran away to meet his grandparents – that was the great effect of Castiel's attempts to play Dean, to talk and give hope with simple words as his friend used to do. He ran away jeopardising his life. And... and... and...

The angel's eyes were boring right into his very own mirrored eyes in an infinite loop of misery.

''And I can't find Nick,'' he said with his voice strangely loud in overwhelming silence of the bathroom.

That was the truth.

He failed, yet again and he would fail again.

 _Stone-cold body snatcher..._ _No different than Lucifer..._ _Famous spanner in the works_... Naomi's voice emerging from the past. _Expendable_ , as Ambriel once said.

He was unable to complete the simple task: babysitting.

_Ruthless flick of fingers._

Castiel closed his eyes rapidly and opened them again.

''I can't find Nick,'' he repeated angrily with his voice hoarse.

Oh, if only that mantra could make him regain long-lost control over his own life of which shattered pieces, barely even holding onto one another, were sprayed all across the Empty he never actually left.

Not really.

He died soon after his foolish heroic march against Lucifer. He died for good with an angel blade sticking out of his chest, white light burning through his essence, desintegrating every single cell. The last thing he ever heard was Dean screaming out in agony and then there was nothing, but Empty.

The only place he truly belonged. _The Empty_. Empty as ever was each and every one of his many attempts to fix the world, to do what was right. Oh, yes, Empty suited him well.

The chain of his thoughts was suddenly broken when he felt very mechanical vibration in the pocket.

_We're on our way._

Sam's text was simple. No blaming, no questions.

_We're on our way._

Castiel dropped his head again as he could not stand seeing Jimmy's face soaked with sorrow any longer.

 _Michael and his newly designed abominations._ _Heaven on the brink of death._

_Dean._

He squeezed his eyes tightly.

_Family._

His very stupid, very human family.

 _Focus_.

He breathed in and out.

_Family._

Sour and yeasty beers, crackling radio in Impala roaring endlessly with Led Zeppelin tapes, equally endless filthy jokes he could never ever understand, old jackets and plaid shirts reeking with sweat and blood, pies and cheesburgers with extra becon, hugs... Means, those weird acts of tighly embracing one's body with another's body when you can actually smell someone's shampoo... PB&Js, emoticons and those cowboy movies, oh, and idiotic stetsons, toasts popping out of toaster and scaring the crap out of him...

''Dean.''

It was nothing, but a mere whisper tangled with the dull sound of ever ticking clock.

_Even though I walk through a very dark valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me._

The clock was ticking somewhere in the distance, its steady sound constantly reminding of every minute that passed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Being a newborn member of Supernatural Family I just felt obliged to try and write something. The need was there for some time already, but it was the recent episode (Episode: s14e02 Gods and Monsters) that pushed me to finally sit and write, not just think of writing.
> 
> Castiel is my favourite character and it feels odd every time when he, who has the wisdom of nearly eternity from human perspective, heart in the right place and, after years spent among human beings, some down-to-earth experience, is still failing in most embarassing ways.
> 
> I can blame it on bad writing, on me knowing only a part of the story (part is always left untold and, maybe, yet to be told) or maybe on using Castiel as a tool by writers to praise the Winchesters (at Castiel's expense) who are, in fact, the real main characters of the show...
> 
> But do I indeed blame it on something or someone? Nope. It's the story. Imperfect, with all of its many ups and downs, weird and fantastic story about two hunters and their bizzare family. I hold no grudge. I love the story.


End file.
